


Terms of Use Policy

by Marzi



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Character Study, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-16
Updated: 2015-03-16
Packaged: 2018-03-18 04:32:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3556136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marzi/pseuds/Marzi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He was a voice in his ear, the person called when an extraction or clean up team was needed. He was the hotline people called when something broke. He was there for them, in every way he could be, the same was not true of the reverse. The Kingsmen had Merlin, but he did not have them. He didn't even necessarily want them, privacy, what little of it there was to be had in an intelligence agency, was of great importance to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Terms of Use Policy

He was chopping vegetables in his kitchen when Galahad's voice sounded in his ear.

 

_"Merlin, are you reading me?"_

 

He set down his knife and tapped the corner of his glasses. "Yes Galahad, what is it?"

 

_"May I come in?"_

 

"I'll be at the door in a moment." He wiped his hands on a dishtowel and moved down the hall, tapping the corner of his glasses as he went. Talking to someone face to face and having their voice directly in your ear at a barely detectable delay was maddening.

 

Harry Hart, as well as the majority of the current Kingsman agents, were already established when Merlin joined their ranks. Hearing about their quirks from his predecessor had helped with the learning curve somewhat, but there were always bumps in the road. Still, manners were of particular importance to Harry, and not getting informed ahead of time about the visit was startling.

 

Merlin took a breath and opened his door.

 

"Terribly sorry I didn't call ahead." It was raining, and though Harry had his umbrella open and above him, he was completely drenched.

 

"You're bleeding." Despite the material of his clothes being darkened by virtue of being waterlogged, the stains were still visible.

 

"Not my blood."

 

"Please, come in."

 

He stepped back, and there was a seconds delay when Harry shut his umbrella before stepping inside.

 

"Don't worry about the floor." He closed the door and took another moment to examine the agent in front him. "What happened?"

 

"Took an unplanned swim in the Thames." He hung up his umbrella, but when he shucked his coat, he simply laid it across his arm.

 

"The terrorist cell?" He looked down at the puddle that was rapidly forming on his floor.

 

"Scattered."

 

"Good, and you might as well take the whole kit off, there's no point in staying in damp things." He pointed down the hall to his washroom. "Why didn't you call sooner?"

 

"I believe these don't function quite so well underwater." He took off his glasses and handed them to Merlin. "That, and I find it a bit difficult to speak when there's water in my nose."

 

"Noted. Get warm, I'll get you a change of clothes."

 

Harry's footsteps squelched the whole way down the hall.

 

Merlin was a tad bit taller than Harry, but he could always roll up his sleeves. The agent would probably prefer it over having several inches of ankle and wrist showing. He set down the glasses he had been handed and raided his wardrobe, deciding on warm pajamas and a good dressing gown, knowing he could get some proper clothes for him later.

 

The shower was running, but he still knocked before entering. Harry's wet clothes were in the sink, oxfords sitting on top. He set the clothes on the still dry counter, and left as quietly as he had entered.

 

He laid down towels over the puddle in his entryway, then returned to the kitchen and put on the kettle for tea.

 

Depending on where he had fallen into the river, Galahad could have simply chosen his house as the closest spot to get himself back together. Still, he had walked from whatever bank he had washed up on rather than call a car. Something was on his mind, and he took a stroll, soaking wet in the rain, over the solitude of a private recovery in his own home, in order to work it out.

 

Sometimes Merlin forgot what lonely people spies were.

 

It wasn't unheard of for a Kingsman to have a family, but most only had the agency. As long as they were alive, agents tended to have a strong bond with whoever their sponsor was. They often relied on each other to help them through the tougher aspects of the job. Merlin was still their standard handler and often doubled as a soundboard to their lives. He was their second choice, though not exactly the less frequented, when something not strictly mission related went wrong.

 

Unless he was mistaken, and Merlin rarely was these days, the late Percival had been Harry's sponsor. It wouldn't surprise him in the least if Harry started taking more regular walks to his doorstep.

 

He didn't stop chopping, even when a figure appeared on the edge of his vision.

 

"Thank you for the clothes. Once again, I'm sorry for interrupting your evening."

 

"Think nothing of it." He looked up, pleased that the only lingering dampness on Harry was confined to his hair.

 

"Do you mind if I sit?"

 

"Please do."

 

The kettle chose that moment to whistle, and he set down his knife in order to fix the tea.

 

Harry had chosen to sit at a stool by the counter, able to watch Merlin in the kitchen and engage him in conversation without being in the way. Merlin set down a cup in front of him, lifting his own mug in a toast.

 

"Cheers."

 

Merlin got his first smile of the evening from his unexpected guest. "I trust the shower has you feeling better?"

 

"It was pleasant, but I think I shall attribute my restoration to this lovely cup of tea."

 

Merlin resumed his cooking, setting a pot to boil on the stove and putting aside his cutting board, determined to wait Harry out. He had arrived here for a reason, and attempting to wrest answers out of someone who was a master at polite conversation as well as espionage would have been pointless.

 

The stock was ready and he had just gotten his carrot to broth ratio right when Harry finally spoke.

 

"I didn't know you cooked."

 

Merlin raised an eyebrow, wondering if that was really the best he could come up with after ten minutes of watching him do just that.

 

"I can't imagine why you would have."

 

"We do work together, sometimes people grow friendly in that arrangement."

 

He was a voice in his ear, the person called when an extraction or clean up team was needed. He was the hotline people called when something broke. He was there for them, in every way he could be, the same was not true of the reverse. The Kingsmen had Merlin, but he did not have them. He didn't even necessarily want them, privacy, what little of it there was to be had in an intelligence agency, was of great importance to him.

 

"Our work does depend on trust and cooperation." It was possible to trust someone to do something and not be friendly with them.

 

"That's not what I meant." Harry looked over at him, almost chastising. "The first thing you noticed when you opened the door was the blood on my clothes."

 

"It was rather difficult not to notice." He measured green onion off the flat of his knife and added it to the soup.

 

"As I had made it here and didn't appear to be injured, you inquired as to what happened, but didn't specifically ask after my mission until you established I was all right. Then you offered up your shower and a change of clothes."

 

"I was supposed to kick you out?" He lifted up a spoonful to taste, staring over it and watching Harry.

 

"What I'm saying is, what I meant- was that there is no reason a perfect gentleman such as yourself shouldn't be making a good deal of friends."

 

"Friends? You are aware of what we do for a living?" He set down the spoon, lowering the heat on the stove to let the pot simmer.

 

Harry frowned, brow knitting together. His fingers even fiddled with the edge of his cup. Harry, nervous about something? "I hate to see people wasted."

 

Merlin lowered his head, trying not to sigh. He did not like getting the run around. "How did you end up in the Thames, Galahad?" In his experience, it was always best to bring the topic of conversation back around to the agents. It was about them in the long run, more than it was ever about him.

 

"I've seen two Merlins retire, all of you quite different from each other. You are allowed to set boundaries Merlin, we won't begrudge you that. It's the silence we can't stand."

 

We? The other agents? What was it about him that was displeasing them, didn't he do his job?

 

When he looked up, Harry was finally looking him in the eye.

 

"When I crawled out of the embankment, I thought, I should call Merlin, he'll send a car 'round. Then I realized you were always there. All these months, all these missions, I've never once caught you sleeping. I decided a walk would fortify me-"

 

Merlin wasn't sure if he was supposed to be amused or not. "As an educated man you should know better."

 

"-and allow me the time to come up with something to say."

 

"You came all this way, in the rain, after nearly drowning, because you thought I could use some company." Embarrassment crept up on him, despite his best efforts.

 

"It is half past three in the morning, and you are making soup." Harry smiled, not unkindly. "You know we're here to help you, as much as you are there to help us."

 

It was an answer, but not one he had expected. Weren't they tired of people knowing things about them? About knowing every little detail of the people in their lives?

 

"You want to help me?"

 

"Yes."

 

He picked up his tasting spoon, offering a mouthful of the soup to Harry. "Tell me if this is any good."

 

He obliged, and Merlin couldn't help but smirk at the surprise that flickered across the agent's face.

 

"It's good."

 

"Surely your palette is more refined than that?"

 

"Very good."

 

Merlin laughed because he couldn't help it. "Very well, I'll take it."

 

"When did you learn to cook?"

 

He picked up a sponge and began wiping down his cooking space, trying not to let the question sour his mood. There were some things that had to be said, and it was rather unfair that he expected these men to be able to read his mind in the first place. He needed to rethink things, start again. He had not considered the possibility they would want to help him in any of the ways he was there to support them.

 

"My time and my skills are yours, I want the agency to have that. I want to be there for every one of you, but the details of my life are mine, and I need them to stay that way."

 

Harry nodded, body beginning to slouch on his stool. "Understood."

 

Hopefully not interpreted as a reprimand, but he had mentioned the setting of boundaries. "You're exhausted. You should get some sleep."

 

“Is a cab here all ready?” He straightened, hand adjusting the opening on the dressing gown.

 

“I have a guest room, you'll be staying.”

 

“You know, some people might feel within their rights to call you contradictory.” Harry slid off the stool, not bothering to hide his amusement.

 

Merlin smiled. “I can appreciate company.”

 

“Just as long as they don't ask too many questions.”

 

“Exactly.”

**Author's Note:**

> This sort of... happened, by accident. Though it is supposed to be an early days piece for Merlin, their voices feel very much like their canon age selves to me, but whatever. With this set roughly twenty or more years in the past, the idea that they had the glasses cam is a bit ridiculous, but I figure they could have had some kind of microphone/transmitter in them back then, at least. Also, there is more than green onion and carrots in Merlin's soup, I just didn't feel like going through the whole list of ingredients while he cooked.


End file.
